Between the Bars
by TheRedPoet
Summary: I had voted for a nice, quiet evening at a pub. Molly had other ideas. Ideas involving clubs and dancing. Hell's Bells. There just wasn't any way this would end well.


I have a question.

What do you do once you've given up every single value you've ever held dear? Once you've stepped over damn near every single line you ever swore not to cross? When the deeds paving your own personal highway to hell can't even be called good any more?

"You said, and I quote, 'We're going somewhere awesome,'" I told Molly. "This is not awesome. This sucks more than the Phantom Menace."

She scowled at me, the stern expression offset by a playful grin.

"And you said that if we went to the pub first, we'd go somewhere I wanted after."

Apparently, you go clubbing. At least according to Molly Carpenter. Yeah, I don't get it either, but a long career in wizardry has taught me that sometimes, you just gotta go with it. That doesn't mean you can't be grumpy about it, though.

"I'm really not sure about this, Molly," I said as we walked past a large man in dark clothes, whose name tag declared he was Paul and that he was working as Security.

My apprentice tried for a smile. It wasn't wholly convincing but it was a pretty good fake. If I hadn't known her so well I probably would've bought it.

"Of course you're not. I would've thought you were a body snatcher or something if you'd gone without whining at least a little bit."

She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rhythmic thumping of a bass drum that echoed through the building. I cast her a sideways glance of playful scorn and she bumped her hip into mine as we walked past a little sideways nook that led off towards bathrooms and a cloakroom. A bar spread out in the room ahead of us, dark wood gleaming under bright overhead lights. Corridors led away from the bar another room where throngs of people were crowded together, moving (mostly) in time with whatever horrible noise was supposed to be music.

"I can't dance," I told her. "At all. Unless you're in the mood for a waltz."

Her eyebrows quirked up. "I didn't really wear the outfit for that, but we're definitely trying if there's another time."

My eyes drifted down to the outfit she was wearing. Her hair had been pulled up into a braid that was slowly coming undone, locks of her honey-blonde hair, shot through with streaks of neon green, deep blue and purple hanging across her face. She wore a top that clung to her curves and left the flat plain of her belly bare, the better to show off the three long, shallow scrapes left there by the claws of a Red Court vampire. Her jeans were in a similar state, torn and gashed, but fashion being what it was, looked like any other party goers. For a moment, my gaze lingered on a gash in the fabric leading up from Molly's kneecap and her inner thigh. Then I turned away, steering my steps in the direction of the bar. A drink or ten sounded like a great idea right about now.

"Shots?" Molly asked, pressing in close to my side to squeeze up to the counter.

"Shots," I confirmed.

The bartender didn't take long and soon we had a tray of twenty shot glasses in front of us, half of which were Jack Daniels whisky (mine) and the rest being jägermeister (Molly's). We took them and since I was carrying the load, I took us to the quietest, darkest, dankest corner I could find. It felt… familiar and comfortable.

We had a leather couch and two chairs for ourselves but Molly still settled next to me on the sofa, plucked up a shot glass, and raised it. I mimicked her with my far more wholesome drink.

"Fuck em'," we both intoned together, and took our shot. Then another, and another, until five empty glasses stood before each of us.

My head spun and I took my breaths slowly through my nose as I waited for my stomach to settle. Drinking that much hard liquor, that fast, usually meant your body sent you a "What the fuck was that just now?" signal while considering getting rid of what you'd just drunk. Don't try this at home, kids.

Molly grimaced and winked at me.

"You okay, boss?"

I shook my head and smiled grimly. "Nope. And I'm not your boss anymore."

Molly waggled a hand through the air in a vague gesture. "Well… technically. We're in your territory as a regional commander right now. Boss…"

She said the last word with a lazy, sultry inflection that, had I not been as wizardly as I was, might have left me blushing. Molly winked at me again.

I gave her shoulder a light shove. "Fair enough. So… Do you think we can beat em?

Molly glared. She'd probably studied her mother's glare because it was pretty good.

"No shop talk," she said firmly. "We agreed."

I tried for a pout. "Spoilsport."

She grabbed one of my shots and pushed it at me. "For that, you get to take one of these."

"Oh come on."

"Drink."

I took the shot, gave my old apprentice the finger, and pounded it down. It burned, but not as much as the others had. I could already feel a nice, hazy numbness settle over me, warmth suffusing my limbs.

Molly moved up closer, leaning against me. I slung my arm around her shoulders without really considering it. We'd spent a few weeks in the South American Andes a year back, hammering a Red Court stronghold to dust with the wardens. The nights there had been cold and against the remains of my better judgement, the habit had stuck.

"We should do this more often," Molly said.

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. Her skin was warm to the touch, almost feverishly so, and I found myself running a finger along the stark white line of a scar along her bicep. Molly made a soft sound and I could suddenly feel goosebumps on her skin. I blinked and it wasn't until that moment that I realized what I was doing. I cleared my throat and slowly moved my hand. Molly was looking up at me as if searching my face for something.

"We'll see how you feel when you're hungover tomorrow," I said, smiling wryly. "But if we survive tonight, and next week, then sure."

"I scoff in the face of hangovers," Molly muttered, snagging one of her shot glasses and downing its contents.

"We'll see about that tomorrow," I said wisely.

She gave me a carefree, cocky grin and raised another shot. "I guess we will. Cheers!"

Yeah… I was going to regret what little I remembered in the morning, I just knew it. That being said, I was not about to be outdone by my apprentice. The seventh shot barely even stung and I leaned back against the sofa, eyes drifting shut.

"Hell's bells," I muttered.

"Getting old, teach?"

I glared at her. "Just because you're a proper wizard now doesn't mean I'm about to take any lip from you, punk."

Molly's eyes sparkled and she leaned in close enough that I could smell the licorice on her breath.

"Oh? What're you going to do about it?" She asked breathily.

My mouth went dry. My heart thumped along with the beat of the bass drum, and to my ears, about as loudly. I was definitely getting drunk, but even so, I knew that I was brushing up against a line I had painstakingly laid out and highlighted over the past few years.

My lips brushed against her earlobe as I whispered. "Do you want to know what I'd do to you?"

"Yeah."

"It involves a pitcher of ice water," I said dryly.

Molly's eyes narrowed and she gave my shoulder a shove, pouting as she settled back in her seat, most of the tension slowly draining from her posture. "You suck," she muttered.

"Your powers have grown," I said in my best James Earl Jones impression. "But you're not a  
jedi yet."

"You're unbelievable," Molly sighed.

"So they say."

She groaned and I pulled her into a one-armed hug. I shouldn't have done that. I should've given her some space and not encouraged her advances. I wanted to blame the alcohol but I knew that wasn't it. Well, it mostly wasn't. On some greedy, selfish level, I liked her needing me. It made me feel stronger, and I desperately needed to feel that right about now. Especially with so many people looking for me to lead the way.

Molly melted up against my side as she had before, resting her head against my chest.

"Ramirez would always get jealous when I did this," Molly said, nuzzling her cheek against my shirt. "Not sure if he wanted to bang you or me."

"Oh, you. Definitely you," I said.

"Maybe that's what he wanted you to think."

"Nah. Trust me, he always had a thing for you. He told me, right before-" The words got caught in my throat for a moment. "Before Rio."

"Oh." Her smile fell and she looked down at her lap.

"Yeah…"

An awkward silence stretched between us. I reached out for the last two shots, braced myself, and slugged them both down.

"Come on," I said. "I'm going to show you how to do the locomotion."

And with that, I led a slightly wobbly, wide-eyed Molly toward the dancefloor. We navigated our way through the thickening crowd trying to get to the bar, through a hallway, and continued in the direction of the music.

It washed over us as we got closer, a solid, almost physical presence of noise, heat, and emotion. Hundreds of people were moving on the dancefloor, a sea of bodies moving in time with the music like kelp moves with currents of the sea

Molly rocked back for a second, then shook herself. The war had forced her to deal with overwhelming amounts of emotion in a single area, though most of the time she'd been keeping away fear, hatred and similarly negative mojo. This was different. She stood there for a while, eyes closed, letting it all wash over her like a warm breeze.

"Are you okay?" I asked. She probably couldn't hear over the music, but she nodded and took my hand, leading me onwards.

You know, how in Deadly Weapon 4, Murtagh knows he's not only too old for this shit, he's really, really getting too old for this shit? I felt for him, watching a bunch of twenty-somethings… I hesitate it to call it dancing so much as shamelessly gyrating and/or hopping about in vague correlation to the rhythm of the "music."

Molly smiled at me, teeth sparkling in the disco-light and did a little spin across the floor and her hair, honey-blonde with highlights of blue and green, fanned out around her. I'd always been aware of the fact that she was beautiful - but never more so than in that moment. And much like Murtagh I decided that, old or not, I had to man up and get out there anyways.

We made our way through the throng of moving bodies, dodging and weaving past people until we finally found a corner of the room where the crush was less crushing.

We began to move to the music – Molly's body shifting and swaying to the rhythm – whereas I lumbered from side to side with about as much grace as could be expected from any guy a few inches off seven feet tall.

Molly was watching me and mouthed something drowned out by the music. A question, judging by the inquisitive tilt of her head. When I didn't offer a reply she moved a little closer, looking up into my eyes, expression searching. She took my hands gently in hers, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she guided my hands to her hips.

She shifted with the music again and denim brushed against my fingers as we moved together through the night. Everything faded into a pleasant, warm, sweaty blur from that point onward. We danced and laughed – left for a breather, water, and a bathroom break, and returned yet again to lay claim to our little corner of the dancefloor.

Despite my earlier reservations, I was actually having fun for a while, the fate of the world forgotten. I took Molly's hand and spun her around in a circle and she laughed out loud as I reeled her back in, relaxing against me with her back to my chest. She still held my hand in hers and held it pressed to her chest, to her pounding heartbeat.

And then she began to move again, but this time around, we were pressed together, and the slow, sensual sway of her hips pressed her rear up against the front of my jeans.

I couldn't make myself heard to her, sure, but when has a minor thing like that ever stopped a wizard? So I reached out with my magic until I found the link Molly and I had used countless times over the years of battling The Red Court and their ilk.

"What're you doing, Grasshopper?" I asked her.

"Dancing. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Trying to drive me crazy."

I could hear her soft laughter through the link. "Am I?"

She really, really was. Molly had curves in all the right places, legs that went on forever, was built like a brick sh– You get the point.

She felt just as great as she looked and I was already getting hard, alcohol be damned. My voice came out rough as it echoed through my mind, the way it would no doubt have sounded if I'd spoken out loud.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are."

Molly pressed her back flush to my chest, leaning her head back against my shoulder.

"I can tell," she said, her voice low and smoky. "I can feel it."

We were coming up against it now – the point of no return. It wasn't a wholly unfamiliar place. I'd had moments of weakness before – where I'd considered what would become of us if we gave it a shot. What it'd be like. What Molly would feel like, in my arms. I didn't need to wonder any longer.

My fingers toyed the fabric of her top, feeling the softness of her skin and taut muscle. I dragged the back of my hand across her abdomen, nails raking lightly across her skin, and felt her shudder. It all felt vaguely surreal up until my thumb brushed across the puckered scar an inch above her hip where she'd been shot in Sicily.

"Are we really doing this?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I was asking myself or her. 

"Do you want to?"

I brushed aside sweat-matted blonde locks and kissed her throat, tasting salt, and all but feeling the soft whimper getting stuck in her throat. I turned her around and for a moment, we looked into one another's eyes the way we'd had that first time in St Mary's, both unsure of what we might find.

"Yes," I said. "I do."

Molly moved forward, pressing in close, the tip of her nose brushing against mine. There, she hesitated. "You sure?"

I snorted out a laugh. "Are you shy, Molls? After everything you've done the last few hours?"

Her cheeks turned a fraction pinker – something I would've sworn wouldn't have been possible. "No. Wizards don't get shy."

"Damn right they don't."

Our first kiss started off soft, tentative and gentle. It didn't stay that way for long. I shivered at the taste of licorice as the kiss deepened, hands roaming greedily down her back, along hot, sweat-slick skin. I needed more – needed her closer – I cupped the curve of her rear in my hands, and pulled her tightly to me.

"I wish we would've done this before," Molly said. "We could've had so much more time."

I silenced her with another kiss. "Don't think about that. We're both here now."

I pulled back just a fraction, kissing her swollen lips, the burn-scar on her cheek, the line of her jaw. My kisses moved down her throat and Molly turned her head to the side to let me, hips shifting forward until she had my thigh in between hers. Her arms slipped around me, tightened, and I felt more than heard her gasp against my neck.

"Need you," Molly whispered. "Please."

The look of raw, molten need in her eyes was something I'd never really seen from her before and whatever reservations I had left died in that moment. I didn't know exactly what she was asking for, and I suspect neither did she, but I had a pretty good idea. I was feeling the same way.

As she rocked her hips against my thigh I met her in pure, desperate need for any kind of friction.

"We should get out of here," I said.

For a moment, I wasn't sure if she'd heard me.

"Not yet," she said, as her finger dug into the fabric of my shirt. "Not yet. So close."

Oh.

People were watching us, I idly noted. Not a lot of them, busy as they were, but there were a couple of them stealing glances, a couple gawking. I probably should've told Molly to stop and taken her back to the apartment we shared, to pick things up there. I didn't. I stroked my hand along her cheek and tilted her chin up so that we were looking at one another.

Her blue eyes were hazy with inebriation, her pupils dilated with arousal and I watched as her eyelids fluttered and drifted shut. Her ragged breath tickled against my skin as her movement grew frantic.

With a yelp loud enough that I could hear it over the cacophony of the music, Molly's face twisted up with an expression somewhere in between pain and pleasure. For a moment she stiffened, limbs trembling as she ground her sex against my thigh and, then, finally she went limp in my arms.

We just stood there for a while, holding onto one another. Molly smiled up at me, hopeful for the first time in I don't know how long. She ran a hand up along my thigh, short, blunt nails scraping the denim, until she felt the outline of my erection through the fabric. She stroked it slowly, a wicked little smile touching her lips, and a hunger smoldering anew in her eyes.

I caught her wrist. "Not here," I said. "Come on."

Molly smiled and nodded.

The night was far from over. We left the dancefloor and got our jackets, heading out into the dark streets of Chicago, hands clasped against the chill settling over the city. We barely made it around the corner before Molly pushed me up against a rough brick wall, kissing me hard. She flattened her body to mine, hands tangling in my hair. My shoulders stung a little but I didn't care about that one bit as I met Molly with equal fervor, losing myself in the scent of smoke, and perfume, the taste of licorice and cherry chapstick.

"Can't wait," she said, her eyes drifting from mine to scan our surroundings. "Come on."

I glanced around. The streets weren't exactly busy, but we weren't alone either.

We kept on walking and I was painfully aware of how tight my jeans were pulled against the straining of my cock, each step leaving the fabric rubbing against me. At the mouth of the next alley, Molly stepped off the pavement and pulled me with her into the darkness.

I turned the tables on her by the time we'd found our way behind an old rusty container full of broken bottles and detritus. My arms wrapped around her from behind and I moved her to the wall, pressing her up against it. My hands roamed, up under her top, undoing and throwing aside her bra to cup to her breasts. She made a soft sound as my thumb flicked over a taut nipple and as she pressed back against me like she had on the dancefloor. I met her in turn, groaning against her neck as I rutted against her shamelessly.

"You can do it harder," Molly said.

"Hmm?" I drew a slow circle around the tip of her breast with my thumb.

"That. Harder. I'm not gonna break."

I gave her nipple a gentle pinch and Molly's whole body bucked back against mine, a soft hiss slipping past her clenched teeth.

"Come on," Molly said. "I've waited for years for this."

I flashed back to a much younger Molly, earnest and naked in my old apartment, hoping I would give her something that I, at the time, could not. We'd both changed a lot since then.

"Patience, padawan-"

"Oh bite me," Molly snapped, laughing softly. "If you quote Star Wars at me, right now, I'm going to punch you."

I snorted and decided to take her literally, sinking my teeth into the meat between shoulder and neck. Enough to sting, but not enough to risk breaking the skin. Again, Molly shuddered in pleasure at what must have hurt. Interesting.

If she wanted it hard, I wasn't going to deny her. I was too far gone to decline an invitation at this point. I fumbled with the button at the front of her jeans, undoing it, and slipping my hand between her thighs, trailing the fabric of her underwear and finding her soaked with desire. She moaned softly at my touch and my self control promptly shattered. I roughly yanked both jeans and panties halfway down her legs and undid my own pants, fumbling to get my wallet out of my pocket while kissing the exposed nape of her neck.

"No," Molly said, slapping my hand away. "Don't bother. What's the point?"

I wasn't really in a thinking place and I didn't question her. I just ripped my underwear down, moved up behind her, and with her hand guiding me, I slipped inside of her. With the stark contrast of the frigid night air, the warmth of Molly's body to mine, the hot, tight, searing embrace of her was almost shocking. I shuddered, groaning against her neck, and fought to move slowly. It was as much for her sake as it was for mine. It had been a while since I'd last been with a woman and I suspected Molly had built up some expectations over the years. I didn't want to make a mess of things.

Molly's breath caught in her throat. She held it, and then let it out in a soft, choked whine, her entire form trembling against me. It took every ounce of self-restraint I had left in me, but I stopped moving and just held her for a moment.

"You okay, Grasshopper?"

Molly shivered and nodded. "Yeah. It's fine. Stop worrying and fuck me."

She rolled her hips back against me and I almost came right then and there. Gritting my teeth, I did as she'd asked, flattening her to the smooth smog-stained brick wall and settling into a quick rhythm. I slipped a hand down between Molly's thighs, over soft, coarse blonde hairs, teasing one finger lightly along her clit. I sped up as I felt the end drawing near and Molly's hand dropped down over mine, guiding me into slow, firm strokes instead.

"Sensei," Molly moaned.

Out of all the things to push me over the edge… She said something more, but I didn't hear it and my vision blurred as I came, clutching at her just to stay on my feet. The world spun and spun. Several seconds ticked by in a mindless, endorphine-fueled haze before reality reasserted itself. Molly was making soft, furtive noises of need, her fingers clasped tightly at my hand, using it to rub herself. Her hips were still moving against mine in a slow rhythm that I found myself answering, despite the twinge of dull discomfort mixing with the pleasurable echoes of my orgasm.

I hadn't even realized I'd stopped touching her, but I started up again, and soon our fingers were moving together steadily. While I kept my touch light and exploratory, Molly's was firm and to the point. I could feel the tension gathering in her, tighter and tighter, until it finally snapped and she came with a choked gasp of my name.

There was a moment of silence that was soon filled with our panting breaths and the resurfacing sounds of the city around us that had been dulled out by the roaring tide of need that had suffused me. I stumbled back half a step, glancing around and pulling my pants up.

"Hell's bells," I gasped.

"Yeah," Molly said. "That. Totally."

She wobbled drunkenly and steadied herself with a hand to the building's wall. Her legs were trembling and she had trouble standing upright as she shimmied into her too-tight jeans. Standing behind her, I could already feel myself getting hard at the sight of her standing half bent-over, struggling to drag the denim over the swell of her ass.

She'd only barely gotten dressed again when I pressed her shoulders against the brick with a low growl, kissing her heatedly. Molly yelped softly in surprise, but she kissed me back and ground her pelvis against mine in a weak reflexive action. A slow grin touched her lips when she found me getting hard once more and she repeated the gesture, head falling back to bare her neck to me. It was tempting… but we were both shivering.

"Come on, " I said, as we parted. "Let's get home before we turn into icicles."

Molly moved in close and I wrapped my coat clumsily around the both of us as we kept on walking down the streets of Chicago.

The door had barely closed on her apartment before I found myself pushed up against it, Molly greedily kissing her way down my jaw, my throat, one hand stroking along the outline of my cock through my jeans, the other fumbling clumsily with my belt.

She gave me a hungry little smile and pulled me along into the bedroom, shedding her clothes as she went. I found myself on my back on the bed, with Molly quickly divesting me of my pants, throwing them aside and climbing into bed with me. She straddled me, wasting no time to guide me inside of her once more.

She made for quite the sight, her hair falling wildly down along her shoulders and into her face as she picked up a frantic speed. She took my hands in hers, guiding them to her hips, and I went from there, caressing the curves of her breasts, running my thumbs along the golden loops piercing her nipples.

Molly moved with a reckless abandon atop me, skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, her gaze intent and never wavering from me. I met her halfway and we soon found a rhythm together.

"Not yet," Molly said in throaty whisper. "Not yet. Wait for me. Not yet… now!"

She beat me to the punch the second time around, but only barely. Her moans segued into a soft litany of my name, and she collapsed on top of me. That was enough to drive me over the edge with her. I groaned loudly, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in close to my chest as I spilled myself inside her.

We stayed like that for a while, until our breathing evened out somewhat.

"Not a bad way to spend a night," she murmured. She looked down at me, eyes blearily, voice slurred, and then blinked and shook herself.

"Molly?"

"I'm kinda scared to close my eyes," Molly said. "What if I wake up and-"

"Shh."

I kissed her and she met me with a need bordering on desperation, rocking her hips against mine once more. I was so sore it was almost painful and I put a hand on Molly's belly, pushing her back to the mattress.

"Close your eyes," I said. "Don't think. Just feel and relax."

My hand descended along her stomach and down to between her thighs and I stroked her slowly. I watched her eyes move behind closed eyelids, listening to her breath quicken once more, soft sounds of pleasure slipping past parted lips. Tension was gathering in her body and she was arching her back, pressing against the slow, steady movements of my fingers. A shiver went down her body and her drew a slow, rasping breath, and then fell back against the sheets.

She blinked her eyes open and I stroked her hair gently, eyes intent on hers, brushing aside a stray tear from her cheek.

"I'll be here," I assured her "Don't worry."

She nodded. I could see fatigue creeping up on her, her eyes going vague and hazy, and rolled off her. Molly followed a heartbeat later, all but crawling on top of me, her cheek resting against my chest.

I drew my thumb lightly along her spine, memorizing the sensation of every little scar, feeling Molly finally relax in my arms. I considered fighting against sleep a while longer, but decided against it. The Sandman didn't keep me waiting for long.

I woke up in darkness. Fresh candles had been set up and lit, but the room was still dark. Molly lay beside me, resting her head in the palm of her hand and watching me.

I consulted my trusty Mickey Mouse alarm clock, which said it was a couple of minutes past noon. I glanced out the window and it confirmed what I'd suspected. It was pitch black.

"So…" I said. "It's finally come."

Molly nodded. "Yeah."

She looked calm, but I could hear her heart pounding furiously when I pulled her in close to my chest. I could hear distant screams, and other sounds. Worse sounds.

"I'm scared, too," I admitted.

She looked at me and a faint smile touched her mouth. "I know."

I held Molly to my chest as the darkness crept in and swallowed the light, and sank our world into the Empty Night.


End file.
